


Amaranthine: Side Scenes

by Rhiannon87



Series: Amaranthine [2]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Bonus Content, Deleted Scenes, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-05
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 00:29:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiannon87/pseuds/Rhiannon87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deleted scenes from Amaranthine: stuff from other character's POVs and things that didn't quite work into the main narrative. Still very much part of the story!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brother and Sister

**Author's Note:**

> "Brother and Sister" takes place about fifteen minutes after Garrett leaves the house to see Anders at the end of chapter three.

_15 Justinian 9:32 Dragon_

“Where's Garrett?” Carver asked moments before throwing himself down onto Bethany's bed.

She didn't look up from her book. “With Anders.”

“The healer?” Carver blinked. “Is he hurt?” Bethany lowered her book and shot her twin an incredulous look. “Oh. _With_ Anders.”

“Obviously.” She rolled her eyes and went back to reading.

Carver flopped over onto his back. “Maker, I hope this gets the stick out of his ass.”

She smirked behind her book. “It'll be good for him.”

“I just want him to stop hovering.” Carver wriggled around a bit. “Maybe let us have a bit of a life.”

“As miraculous as the Maker's return,” she replied dryly. “And what are you doing?”

“Your bed's more comfortable than mine.”

“Well, you can't have it.” She pushed her bare foot against his side. “Try flipping your mattress every now and then. Maybe that'll help.”

“I have flipped it.” Carver smirked and tickled the bottom of Bethany's foot. She shrieked and kicked at him, accidentally throwing her book across the room in the process. Carver laughed and rolled to his feet. “And what're you--” He picked up the book and glanced at the open pages. “Oh, Maker, Bethany! You're reading this while I'm in here!?”

“You're the one who decided to waltz in,” she replied, jumping to her feet and snatching the book back. “Now shoo.”

“Where did you even _get_ that?”

“From Surana, believe it or not,” Bethany said, pushing at her brother's shoulders. “Out. Go flip your mattress.”

Carver shook his head and retreated to the hallway. Bethany closed the door and locked it, then settled back onto her bed. Maker's breath. Some days she was pretty sure she was the only one with any sense in the house.


	2. For Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during Chapter Four. Takes place the night before Anders, Surana, Justice, and Velanna leave for Kal'Hirol.

_30 Justinian 9:32 Solace_

“Well,” Anders said, looking Garrett up and down. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“Your cat had nothing to do with this,” Garrett replied, leaning against the door frame, arms folded over his chest.

Anders smirked and sat back down on the edge of his bed, picking up his comb and running it through his damp hair. “So, to what do I owe the honor of your company?” he asked, a bit dry, more than a little bitter. It had been almost a week since Garrett had come to see him, in the infirmary or in his room. He hadn't wanted to be _distracted._ So Anders had found a distraction or two of his own.

Garrett shrugged and stepped inside. “You're leaving tomorrow,” he said, pushing the door shut with his foot. “I'd hate for you to go without a kiss for luck.”

Anders chuckled and tossed his comb at the desk. “Must be quite the kiss you're planning, if you had to come all the way up here for it.”

“I just didn't want to get up at sunrise to see you off,” Garrett replied. He crossed the room in two strides and grabbed Anders's shoulders, capturing his mouth in a surprisingly gentle kiss. Anders sighed against him, his body going limp, as he twined his fingers into Garrett's hair. Garrett moaned and deepened the kiss, bearing Anders down onto the bed.

“Mm,” Anders purred when they came up for air, “I certainly do feel luckier now.”

“Oh, I think I can give you more luck than that,” Garrett breathed, smirking, and ducked his head to Anders's neck. Anders let out a breathy gasp as the other man sucked at his pulse; Garrett's hands found their way under his shirt, fingers skimming across his chest, trailing ice crystals along his skin. With a low growl, Anders stripped off his shirt, pushing Garrett back a few inches in the process.

Garrett's lips curled in a predatory smile before he descended again, biting and kissing every inch of skin he could reach. Anders groaned and bucked his hips up against the other man when Garrett traced ice-slick fingers around his nipples. Maker, at this rate, he was going to be frost-bitten and bruised and he honestly didn't care in the slightest. He whimpered and pouted a bit when Garrett drew away to pull off his shirt.

Garrett rolled his eyes. “I suppose if you want me to stay clothed the entire time,” he grumbled, balancing on his knees on the edge of the bed, and ran his hands along Anders's ribs.

“I want you naked, but I also don't want you all the way up there,” Anders replied, grabbing at Garrett's shoulder. “You should just be naked all the time. It'd be easier.”

“Might be a little distracting, though.” Garrett slid his hands under Anders's arms and tugged, urging him further up on the bed.

“For you or for everyone else?” Anders asked as he scooted backwards. He was too tall to fit on the bed sideways, but at least now Garrett could straddle him without risk of falling on his ass. Which would be such a shame. It was quite a nice ass.

“Everyone else, obviously.” Garrett grinned. “I mean, really.” He spread his arms, putting himself on display. Anders took advantage of the opportunity to lean forward and run his hands up Garrett's torso. A breath of mana had his fingers sparking with electricity; Garrett arched his back and groaned, then pounced on Anders again, kissing him hard. Anders slid his hands past the waistband of Garrett's pants to grab the aforementioned nice ass.

Garrett kicked off his boots and tugged at Anders's trousers. He paused for a moment and snorted when his hands found bare skin underneath. “Plans for tonight?” he asked, voice low.

“Maybe.” Anders ground his hips up against Garrett. “Might've been hoping to get lucky.”

The other man growled and bit at the juncture between Anders's shoulder and neck. Garrett's hands were back on his chest, fingers rolling and rubbing at his nipples. Anders writhed under him as Garrett turned his attention to his ear, his teeth clicking against the earring as he nibbled at the sensitive lobe. With a low, wordless whine, Anders tugged at Garrett's pants, trying to remove the last few pieces of cloth between them.

Garrett pulled back and halfway rolled off him, giving them both the needed space to strip out of the remains of their clothes. Then he tackled him again, his hands pinning Anders's wrists to the bed and his tongue deep in Anders's mouth. Anders, having lost nearly all capability for finesse, rocked his hips against Garrett's, moaning at the friction as their cocks rubbed together.

“Grease,” Garrett breathed, sliding one hand up to cover Anders's. For a second, their fingers intertwined, palms pressed together; Anders almost shivered and avoided meeting the other man's gaze as he cast the spell. Garrett braced himself up on one knee and wrapped his hand around both of them, stroking slick fingers against their cocks. Anders grabbed his shoulder, pulling him down flush against his body, and kissed him hard as he thrust into his hand. Maker, but it was so fucking good, the slick heat of Garrett's fingers and the throbbing pulse of Garrett's cock against his.

They found a rhythm, grinding against each other and sharing open, sloppy kisses. Anders was reasonably certain he was going to have stubble burn on his lips. Garrett's fingers tightened around them ever so slightly, and that pushed him over the edge. He fisted one hand in the sheets and grabbed Garrett by the back of the neck, crushing their mouths together as he came, muffling his moan against the other man's lips. Garrett rocked against him, sending dizzying waves of sensation through his over-sensitive skin, and buried his face in Anders's neck as he climaxed.

“Fuck,” Garrett mumbled after a few minutes of quiet gasping.

“No,” Anders replied. “Give me half an hour or so and I'll consider it.”

Garrett huffed out a laugh and rolled over, reaching off the edge of the bed for a towel. “I think you've got enough luck from me already,” he said.

Anders chuckled and stretched. “Mm. I'd say so.” He grabbed Garrett's arm and tugged him up towards the pillows, arranging the two of them on the bed in the proper direction. “D'you want to stay? I have to be up early.”

“Yeah,” Garrett replied and pulled the sheet up over them. “I'll just stagger home at sunrise and sleep for another few hours.”

Anders smiled and cuddled up against him. Good, he wanted to say, I'm glad you're staying, but instead he just wrapped an arm around Garrett's waist and closed his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during Chapter Four, during the adventures in the Deep Roads.

_3 Solace 9:32 Dragon_

Only two days underground, and already, the surfacers looked miserable. Well, all except the dead guy. Sigrun smirked. What a recruit he'd have been, someone who was _actually_ dead in the Legion of the Dead. Not an idea she'd have had, but that was before she knew the advantages of having a corpse on your team. He didn't need to sleep, so he could keep watch all night. And his smell masked the stench of darkspawn!

All right, so that last one wasn't really an advantage. Still, Justice was handy in a fight, and the not-sleeping thing was pretty useful.

Velanna frowned as Surana dumped a pile of broken and rotted wood in the middle of the cave where they'd decided to set camp. “These belonged to the dwarves,” she said, lightly touching a broken chunk of wood. “Is it really right to use them as kindling?”

Sigrun shrugged. “Just noble-caste tables and chairs, probably,” she said. “Nothing that they don't have a dozen of in Orzammar.”

That seemed to appease Velanna, though she still frowned as Surana ignited the wood with a burst of flame from her fingers. Justice took up his post by the door-- he didn't need to eat, either, so you got a warrior without having to carry rations-- while Surana dug through her pack for food. Behind them, Anders sat in a corner, looking surprisingly small for someone so tall, and fed his cat from the palm of his hand. The cat's pink tongue flicked out, and Anders smiled as he stroked the cat's back.

Sigrun didn't realize she was staring until Anders looked up and grinned at her. “You seem quite taken with Ser Poune-a-Lot,” he said. The cat meowed at the sound of his name.

She shrugged and made her way over to him. “We don't have cats in Orzammar,” she replied. “Well, maybe some nobles do, if they buy them from a surface merchant.”

“Aw, everyone needs a pet!” Anders said, scratching Pounce behind the ears.

“Well, I had a nug once,” Sigrun replied. “For about an hour. Before my uncle ate him.”

Anders winced sympathetically. Pounce finished his meal and paced across Anders's legs, rubbing his head against the mage's hands. “You can pet him, if you like,” Anders offered. “So long as you take off the gauntlets first.”

Sigrun glanced at the entrance of their cave, then sat down beside him and pulled off one gauntlet. She held her hand out to the cat; Pounce sniffed her fingers, whiskers tickling a bit, then shoved his forehead against her knuckles. Anders laughed. “That translates to 'pet me, mortal,' I think,” he said.

She gently ran her hand down the cat's back. “He's very soft,” she said, smiling.

“Most cats are.” Pounce's eyes closed in what looked like happiness as Sigrun lightly scratched the top of his head. “I think he likes you.”

She smiled at the cat. It would have been nice to have a pet like this, she thought, something warm and friendly to cuddle with. But that wasn't her life. Or her death, technically. The Wardens would return to the surface and she'd stay in the deep. But for now, she could enjoy a few minutes with a fuzzy cat. It wasn't like the opportunity was going to come along again.


	4. The Siege of Vigil's Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place, unsurprisingly, during the siege.

_7 August 9:32 Dragon_

Bethany slid down against the wall, panting for breath, her eyes squeezed shut as she listened to the roar of battle around her. She and Velanna were the only two mages at the Keep, and Varel had told them to keep moving. 'Hit them a few times, then change position,' he'd said. 'They won't be able to target you as easily.'

Her hair had come loose of its tie, and she twisted it back, trying to ignore the trembling in her hands. The blight was over. They were supposed to be safe. But now the Keep was surrounded by darkspawn; Carver was down there somewhere, fighting them at the gate, and Garrett was Maker-only-knew where. If he was even still alive.

She blinked hard and shook her head. He'd be fine. They would all be fine. She had to hold it together, for all their sakes. Bethany took a few deep, focusing breaths, and waited for the archers around her to loose their latest volley. Then she scrambled to her feet, summoning the energy for a fireball, and hurled a blast of energy where the darkspawn were thickest. The fireball burst, flinging the creatures up and out, and she grinned savagely at the sight. They'd already taken her home and her mother. She wouldn't let them take anything else.

The few archery lessons she'd had with Nathaniel had given her a better idea of how fast an arrow flew, but even that couldn't prepare her for the sight of one coming towards her. She jerked to the side on instinct, and cried out in pain as it sliced along the side of her neck. Bethany clapped a hand over the wound and sank back behind the wall.

“Shit, are you okay?” One of the soldiers-- Sergeant something, Bethany couldn't remember her name-- crouched in front of her. “Let me see.”

Bethany peeled her hand away from her neck. The sergeant grimaced. “Not as bad as it could have been,” she said. “Here.” She dug a bandage out of a belt pouch and wound it around Bethany's throat with quick, deft skill. “Don't suppose you know any healing magic?”

Bethany shook her head and immediately regretted the action. She was pretty sure she’d figured out that basic healing spell Anders had been teaching her, but she only had so much mana. Better to save it for more important things. “I'll be fine,” she said.

The sergeant tied off the bandage and nodded. “Not too tight, is it?”

“No. It's fine, thank you.”

The other woman nodded and clapped Bethany on the shoulder. “Better keep moving,” she said. “They'll be looking for you here.”

“Right.” Bethany ducked down and headed east along the battlements. Her throat stung, and she could feel blood trickling down along her collarbone, but she gritted her teeth and ignored it. They needed her to keep fighting. She could do this.


	5. Enlistment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place just before the beginning of Chapter Six.

_10 August 9:32 Dragon_

Carver opened the front door and poked his head inside. Garrett had gone over to his office in the Keep that morning, but he could have come back, and the last thing he needed was his older brother locking him in the cellar for safety or something.

The front room was empty, save Rascal, who got a head scratch before Carver headed down the hall to his room. He had the door halfway open when Bethany spoke up. “Carver?”

He turned; she was standing in the doorway of her room with an armful of sheets. Her eyes went wide when she saw the insignia on his chest. “Oh,” she said. “You did it."

“Yeah.” Carver smiled broadly. “Garavel gave me an officer’s commission. I start training tomorrow.”

Bethany dumped the bedclothes back to the floor and stepped into the hallway. “Garrett's gonna lose it, you know,” she said.

“I'll deal with him,” Carver replied shortly. He ducked into his bedroom and crouched down by his bed, tugging his leather satchel out from underneath. With a frown, he batted the dust off it, then went to his wardrobe.

“You've moving out?” Bethany asked, leaning against the door frame.

“Officers have quarters in the keep,” Carver said. He'd finally be out on his own, without Garrett hovering over him every breath. He knew what his brother was doing-- Garrett had gotten like this after Mother died. Back then he hadn't minded Garrett's rampant over-protectiveness, but it couldn't go on forever. The three of them were fine, this time. No one had died, or even been hurt all that badly.

Bethany was quiet for a few moments, then walked in and sat down on the edge of his bed with a sigh. “I'll miss you,” she said, twisting her fingers together in her lap.

Carver swallowed hard and shoved a handful of shirts into his bag. “It's not like I'll be that far away,” he said. “I'm just up in the keep.”

“But you won't be here.” She shook her head. “It won't be the same.”

He closed the satchel and set it down, then sat on the bed next to her. “I know,” he said, scuffing his boots against the floor. The only other time he'd left his twin like this was Ostagar. “But I have to do this.”

“I know,” she said immediately. “I'm not trying to talk you out of it. That's Garrett's job.” Carver snorted and rolled his eyes. “I just-- I'm gonna miss you.” She smirked and elbowed him in the side. “I'm gonna be stuck eating Garrett's cooking from now on.”

“I'll come back and cook sometimes,” he said. “Just so you don't forget what good food actually tastes like.”

She laughed. “We'll probably see each other at meals, still,” she said. “I have a feeling I'll end up eating at the keep a lot.”

“See?” Carver said. “It'll be like nothing's changed.”

Bethany smiled at him, sad and indulgent, and they both knew he was lying. “What'd you pack?” she asked.

“Clothes,” Carver replied. “I figure if I need anything else, I can come back and get it.”

She leaned over and grabbed his comb off the side table, then tucked it into his bag. “Your hair looks stupid when you wake up,” she explained.

“So does yours.”

“Mine is _tousled._ ”

“Same thing.”

She kicked his leg; he mussed her hair. “Get out of here,” Bethany said, pushing at him. “And try not to get too mad at Garrett."

Carver stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder. “I can't promise anything,” he said. He stood there awkwardly for a second, then nodded. “Right. Well. I'll see you soon.”

Bethany sighed and jumped up. “Idiot.” She threw her arms around her neck and hugged him. “Congratulations, Lieutenant,” she said.

Carver grinned and hugged her back. “Thanks, Beth.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during Chapter Seven, right before Bethany yells at Garrett for being an idiot.

_16 Harvestmere 9:32 Dragon_

Bethany shut the infirmary door behind her and grimaced. That had gone... horrendously. If she was lucky, she hadn't made the situation worse. “Maker's blighted arse, Garrett,” she muttered. “You are such an _idiot_.”

“Something wrong?”

She glanced up at Nathaniel and smiled. “My brother’s an idiot.”

Nathaniel paused, frowning. “Can you be more specific?”

She laughed. “Garrett,” she clarified. “This whole ridiculous _thing_ with him and Anders.”

“Ah.” Nathaniel winced, then tilted his head at the hall, a silent invitation for her to walk with him. “Yes, I’ve been avoiding that debacle as much as possible.”

Bethany fell in step beside him and shook her head. “I live with half of it,” she said. “He’s barely spoken a word in days.”

Nathaniel shook his head. “You ought to get out of the house more, then,” he suggested. “I haven’t seen you around the keep lately.”

“I’m trying to keep a lower profile,” she said. “What with the Templars and all.”

“Do they know about you?” he asked, grey eyes intense as he looked over at her.

“I don’t think so.” Bethany shook her head. “But Garrett and Neria both think it’d be for the best if I wasn’t quite so… obvious.”

Nathaniel smiled. “I don’t see what good it will do,” he said. “You spent months with the soldiers, and you’d be difficult to forget.”

Bethany blushed and looked away. “The fireballs to tend to stand out in peoples’ memories.”

“Well. Those too.” Nathaniel shifted half a step closer to her, his hand brushing against hers. “If the Commander ordered you to cut back on training, that’s one thing. But I don’t think there’s a soldier at the keep who’d betray you or your brother to the Templars. Not after what you did during the siege. You’re the reason people here aren’t so afraid of mages.”

Bethany was fairly certain that if she blushed any harder, she was going to spontaneously burst into flame. “Th-thank you,” she said, managing what had to be a ridiculous smile. “I, um.” She giggled and shook her head. “You’re making it very difficult for me to maintain my bad mood. I was going to go yell at Garrett, you know.”

“Ah, well. My apologies, m’lady.” Nathaniel smiled faintly and bowed. “Far be it from me to stand in the way of inter-sibling justice.”

She grinned. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight?”

“Absolutely.” He nodded at the doors. “Have fun with the yelling.”


	7. Man in Uniform

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place right after the fade-to-black in the "Warden uniform" scene in chapter eight.

_26 Harvestmere 9:32 Dragon_

Garrett fell back onto the mattress, his fingers still hooked around Anders's belt, and grinned. Anders's answering smile was downright predatory as he climbed up onto the bed. Anders swung a leg over Garrett's waist, straddling him, and grabbed his wrists to keep his hands from wandering. He leaned forward, pinning Garrett's arms to the bed, then kissed him, slow and deep and thorough, nipping lightly at his lower lip when he pulled back. Garrett blinked dazedly up at him, and Anders smirked.

“So,” Anders said, “since it took me such a long time to get into this, and since you seem to like it so much,” he rolled his hips, and Garrett groaned, “I think the uniform's staying put.”

“No complaints here,” Garrett rasped.

“You, on the other hand...” Anders slid his gloved hands down Garrett's sides and tugged at the hem of his shirt.

Garrett immediately yanked the shirt off over his head, and Anders guessed from the way he was shifting around that he was trying to toe off his boots. Anders left him to it and leaned down, biting at Garrett's neck while he slid his hands across Garrett's chest. Garrett gave up on the boots-- gave up on pretty much everything, actually, save for gasping and groaning and clutching Anders's shoulders. “Oh, fuck,” he hissed, arching his back, as Anders dragged leather-clad thumbs over his nipples. “That's so good, Maker...”

Anders smirked against Garrett's throat and did it again. And again, over and over until Garrett was writhing under him, one hand fisted in his hair. Anders sat up and leaned back, grinding down on Garrett's erection, and smirked when the other man groaned. “Probably ought to get you out of these, hm?” he asked, sliding one finger under the waistband of Garrett's pants.

“That'd be-- that'd be good.” Garrett's hands were trembling a bit as he reached for his belt. Anders moved off him, settling back against the wall as he finished undressing. His own pants were uncomfortably tight, but he left them alone for the moment. It was worth it for the way Garrett's eyes darkened every time he looked at Anders.

Garrett kicked the rest of his clothes to the floor and started to sit up, reaching for Anders. Anders pushed him back down and tugged his wrists up above his head; Garrett took the hint and grabbed the top edge of the mattress, head tipped back as he panted for breath. Anders let his gaze travel down the other man's body. “Oh, Maker,” he breathed, “the things I'm going to do to you.”

Garrett managed a crooked grin. “Promises, promises,” he teased.

Anders let out a low growl and lunged forward, tangling one hand in Garrett's hair and yanking his head back to expose his throat, then bit down on Garrett's pulse, sucking at the sensitive skin. He splayed his other hand at the base of Garrett's throat, fingers across his collarbones. Garrett moaned and cursed and gasped for breath. Anders drew back slightly and smirked at the dark bruise he left behind, then found another patch of skin to attack. By the time he was satisfied, Garrett's throat bore an impressive collection of bruises and bite marks. Garrett's knuckles had gone white, and Anders was a little surprised the mattress hadn't torn.

Anders sat up, taking a few calming breaths and fighting down the desire to just grind against Garrett's hip until he came in his pants. “Gloves staying on?” he asked, holding up his hands.

“Fuck yes,” Garrett murmured, his eyes still shut.

Anders smirked breathlessly. “Then you'll have to take care of yourself,” he said. “Oil's in the drawer.”

Garrett opened his eyes and half rolled onto his side, yanking the nightstand drawer open. “Why do you even...?” he asked as he fumbled with the stopper.

Anders shrugged. “Sometimes I'm lazy,” he replied. The tabard was going to be a bit of a problem; after a moment's consideration, he folded the bottom half up, tucking it under the belt. With that out of the way, he reached for the laces on his trousers.

Garrett set the bottle back on the nightstand and spread his legs, eyes fluttering shut as he moved his hands lower. Anders groaned and bit down on his fist as he watched Garrett slide a finger inside himself. He tugged his pants down past his hips and pulled his cock free, testing the feel of the soft leather on his skin. It was interesting-- too dry for stroking, but light touches were good. Very good.

He glanced up as Garrett moaned and added a second finger. “Holy Andraste,” Anders muttered. He was pretty sure he'd be able to come just from watching this long enough, Garrett naked and gasping and pleasuring himself in his bed. Another time. _Definitely_ another time. Anders swallowed hard and leaned forward, lightly running his gloved fingers down the side of Garrett's cock.

The reaction was instant: Garrett cried out, his hips jerking into the contact. “Oh, Maker, do that again,” he begged, pushing his fingers deeper in. Anders did as he asked, tracing light lines across his skin. Garrett shuddered and moaned and eventually eased his fingers free. “C'mere,” he said, holding his hand out to Anders.

He moved closer and choked on a gasp when Garrett wrapped slick fingers around his cock, stroking him fast and tight. “That's-- oh, fuck, stop, not so much,” Anders whispered, pushing Garrett's hand away. Garrett blinked at him expectantly; Anders shook his head and rolled his hand in the air. Garrett half-smiled and turned onto his stomach, burying his head in his folded arms.

Anders settled himself between Garrett's legs, then slowly slid his hands down Garrett's back, from his shoulders down over the curve of his ass. Garrett pushed up into the touch, groaning into the mattress. Anders swallowed hard and bit down on his tongue to keep quiet as he pushed in. Garrett, lacking any such habits of silence, cursed and gasped and pressed back against him, his voice muffled in the mattress.

With a low groan, Anders leaned his forehead against Garrett's shoulder blade. Garrett turned his head and whined in the back of his throat. “Do _something_ , for the Maker's sake,” he rasped, bucking his hips up against Anders.

Anders grunted and bit down on Garrett's shoulder. “Your wish is my command, sweetheart,” he muttered, then pushed himself up on his forearms and gripped Garrett's biceps. He started off slow, tormenting them both with long, agonizing strokes, his breath stuttering every time he pushed back in.

Garrett tossed his head from side to side. “Will you just fuck me already?”

“Pretty sure this qualifies, you know.” Anders withdrew completely and tugged at Garrett's hip. “Up.” Garrett pushed himself up to his hands and knees; he started to straighten up further, but Anders held him in place with a hand on the back of his neck. “No. I want you like this.” Garrett shivered, head bowed, and he swore creatively as Anders pressed into him again. Anders wrapped his fingers around Garrett's hips and began to move, driving in deeper; Garrett met his pace thrust for thrust, rocking back against him.

Garrett shifted his weight to one arm and slumped forward, stroking himself with his free hand. “I-I'm-- oh, holy Andraste, I-- Anders--” He trailed off into a strangled groan as he came, his half of the rhythm slowing. Anders curled against his back, one arm wrapped around Garrett's chest, his other hand digging into Garrett's hip, as he pounded into him. He bit his lip hard, breath catching in his throat, then followed Garrett over the edge, trembling and gasping.

Garrett's arms gave out first, and he pitched forward into the bed with a groan. Anders rolled to the side to keep from crushing him. “I think,” he began, once he'd caught his breath enough to speak, “I think that I like the new uniform.”

“Yeah?” Garrett turned his head to look at him and grinned. “It's not bad.” Anders smirked and ran a finger over Garrett's collarbone. Garrett all but purred. “Cheater.”

Anders chuckled. “I'm never going to be able to wear this in the field, you know. I'll get... distracted.”

“Or I will.” Garrett rolled onto his side and stretched. “Maybe just stick with wearing it at court functions where I can safely drag you into a closet.”

“Mm. Good plan.” Anders glanced down at himself and sighed. “And now I think I need to take this off. It's all…moist.” He was pretty sure he hadn’t torn anything, though.

Garrett grinned, then flopped onto his back and tucked his hands behind his head. “Well, go on, then.”


End file.
